Three long strings of game animals were walking leisurely away in three
different directions. They were proceeding soberly, in single file, nose
to tail. The ranks ran with scarcely a break, to disappear over the low
swells of the plain. Alongside the plodders skipped and ran, rushed back
and forth the younger, frivolous characters, kicking up their heels,
biting at one another, or lowering their horns in short mimic charges--
gay, animated flankers to the main army. There were several sorts, each
in its little companies or bands, many times repeated, of from two or
three to several score; although occasionally strange assortments and
companionships were to be seen, as a black, shaggy-looking wildebeeste
with a troop of kongoni. Kingozi saw, besides these two, also the bigger
and smaller gazelles, many zebra, topi, the lordly eland; and, apart, a
dozen giraffes, two rhinoceros, and some warthogs. There were probably two
thousand wild animals in sight.

The hunters lay flat, watching. This multiplicity afforded them a
wonderful spectacle, but that was about all. If they should crawl three
yards farther they would indubitably be espied by some one. It was
impossible to single out a beast as the object of a stalk: all the others
must be considered, too. There was no cover.

Kingozi was too old at the business to hurry. He considered the elements
of his problem soberly before coming back to his first and most obvious
conclusion. Then he raised himself slowly to his favourite sitting
position and threw off the safety.

The distance was a fair three hundred yards, which is a long shot--when it
_is_ three hundred yards. The fireside and sporting magazine hunters of
big game are constantly hitting 'em through the heart at even greater